aunts took turns crying. Abuelita never stopped. I sat down next to her on the couch and held her hand. Abuelita’s crying was unbearably painful to me. I couldn’t even tell if I had any sadness of my own, because I was so full of Abuelita’s sadness. I worried that her spirit had been torn apart so painfully by Papi’s death that she might never be happy again. What would happen to me if she died too?
The nuns and Monsignor Hart came and went. Dr. Fisher came too, and some people from the factory where Papi worked. All the while, Mami just sat there. Her eyes were open, but she was not really present, not even answering when people talked to her. Titi Aurora had to tell her to say thank you to Monsignor Hart.
What happens next is that I’m supposed to say good-bye to Papi, Titi Aurora says. She wants me to kiss him. I want to scream “No!” but I swallow it because I don’t want to upset Abuelita any more than she’s upset already. “
No tengas miedo
, Sonia. Touch his hand.” I’m not afraid, but I’m not okay either. This thing with a powdery white face resembles my father, but it’s not him, and it’s certainly not something I want to touch. But I close my eyes and get it over with.
A part of me was not surprised by what happened then. A knot that had been tied tight inside me for longer than I can remember began to come loose. Deep down, I’d known for a while that this was where Papi was heading. Looking at this thing that was not Papi, I realized that he was not coming back. From here, Mami, Junior, and I would be going along without him. Maybe it would be easier this way.
… Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte
.
We did the
rosario
for Papi for seven straight nights at Abuelita’s,and every night I thought it would never end. Abuelita cried. Mami cried. My aunts cried. The prayers went on and on, along with that horrible week. The final night should have been better because the end was in sight, and friends brought dinner instead of just pastries, but the bad news was that we had to do three … whole … rosaries …
Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia: El Señor es contigo. Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús …
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I woke up with my mother standing next to me, pulling my arm out of its socket, gripping my hand so tightly it hurt. Her whole body was shaking with anger, and her voice trembled as she spoke to Abuelita: “Mercedes, you can’t do this! I won’t let you!” The room was silent. Everyone’s eyes were on Mami, standing there with the tears running down her face. “I swear, I will take her away from you and you will never see us again. Never!”
She dragged me to the bedroom and cried all night. I had no idea what had so upset her that she would turn on Abuelita, and she wouldn’t tell me. Much later I learned the story. As I nodded off in the midst of the prayers, I apparently spoke in a strange voice—one that sounded like Abuelita’s long-dead sister to those who remembered her, a voice my grandmother might summon during one of her séances. The message I delivered was that my father was safely in her company; there was no need to worry. “
Confórmate
,” I said. Accept it.
I can’t explain it. Nothing like that had happened to me before, and it hasn’t happened since. Everyone there was as exhausted as I was, and it’s hard to separate what they heard from what they wanted to hear. I know that I wanted more than anything to make Abuelita feel better; it’s very possible I was talking in my sleep or as I drifted off. In any case, it didn’t matter. Any desire my grandmother might have had to develop what she believed to be my “gift” was trumped by my mother’s threat to remove me from the influence of what she saw as superstition and
brujería
.
We had been sleeping at Abuelita’s every
The nuns and Monsignor Hart came and went. Dr. Fisher came too, and some people from the factory where Papi worked. All the while, Mami just sat there. Her eyes were open, but she was not really present, not even answering when people talked to her. Titi Aurora had to tell her to say thank you to Monsignor Hart.
What happens next is that I’m supposed to say good-bye to Papi, Titi Aurora says. She wants me to kiss him. I want to scream “No!” but I swallow it because I don’t want to upset Abuelita any more than she’s upset already. “
No tengas miedo
, Sonia. Touch his hand.” I’m not afraid, but I’m not okay either. This thing with a powdery white face resembles my father, but it’s not him, and it’s certainly not something I want to touch. But I close my eyes and get it over with.
A part of me was not surprised by what happened then. A knot that had been tied tight inside me for longer than I can remember began to come loose. Deep down, I’d known for a while that this was where Papi was heading. Looking at this thing that was not Papi, I realized that he was not coming back. From here, Mami, Junior, and I would be going along without him. Maybe it would be easier this way.
… Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte
.
We did the
rosario
for Papi for seven straight nights at Abuelita’s,and every night I thought it would never end. Abuelita cried. Mami cried. My aunts cried. The prayers went on and on, along with that horrible week. The final night should have been better because the end was in sight, and friends brought dinner instead of just pastries, but the bad news was that we had to do three … whole … rosaries …
Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia: El Señor es contigo. Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús …
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I woke up with my mother standing next to me, pulling my arm out of its socket, gripping my hand so tightly it hurt. Her whole body was shaking with anger, and her voice trembled as she spoke to Abuelita: “Mercedes, you can’t do this! I won’t let you!” The room was silent. Everyone’s eyes were on Mami, standing there with the tears running down her face. “I swear, I will take her away from you and you will never see us again. Never!”
She dragged me to the bedroom and cried all night. I had no idea what had so upset her that she would turn on Abuelita, and she wouldn’t tell me. Much later I learned the story. As I nodded off in the midst of the prayers, I apparently spoke in a strange voice—one that sounded like Abuelita’s long-dead sister to those who remembered her, a voice my grandmother might summon during one of her séances. The message I delivered was that my father was safely in her company; there was no need to worry. “
Confórmate
,” I said. Accept it.
I can’t explain it. Nothing like that had happened to me before, and it hasn’t happened since. Everyone there was as exhausted as I was, and it’s hard to separate what they heard from what they wanted to hear. I know that I wanted more than anything to make Abuelita feel better; it’s very possible I was talking in my sleep or as I drifted off. In any case, it didn’t matter. Any desire my grandmother might have had to develop what she believed to be my “gift” was trumped by my mother’s threat to remove me from the influence of what she saw as superstition and
brujería
.
We had been sleeping at Abuelita’s every
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